Stage time, especially paid
stage time, is a precious commodity in New York City. On stage is where
artists compete for the public’s attention in the hopes of establishing
themselves. But the paid stage, whether in the club or the recording studio,
is also the economic impetus that makes musicians convene over music,
and thereby the impetus for musical development. For much of the last
century, from 1926 to 1988, the restrictive cabaret laws in New York reduced
the amount of live stage time artificially, making it scarce by requiring
licenses for clubs hosting brass and percussion, and granting only a few.
After the laws were overturned in 1988 on grounds of violating the First
Amendment, the resurgence of jazz clubs in New York in the early 1990s
suggested that pent-up demand had indeed exceeded the suppressed supply.
One might ask whether this helps to explain the historical existence of
a New York underground world of exceptional jazz talent that has been
virtually unknown to the jazz-listening public. The newly arrived jazz
clubs of the nineties did in fact reveal a number of artists to the broader
public for the first time. Clubs such as Smalls featured artists like
Frank Hewitt, who had been heard hitherto in recent times mainly at such
places as the University of the Streets or the Jazz Cultural Theater,
both grass-roots organizations known to few outside the jazz community.
The new clubs also afforded younger artists a chance to be presented to
the public in a timely way, and the hope of surviving long enough to become
established.

Now, about Sacha Perry.

Born in Brooklyn on May 1, 1970, Sacha began to learn piano at age 6.
As a standout student early on, he enrolled at Hunter College High School
and began studying classical piano at Mannes School of Music at age 11.
By age 17 his attentions were turning towards jazz. The inspiration supplied
by a Thelonious Monk recording was a catalyst for what was to become a
life journey. Sacha, a born self-educator with a keen nose for the non-obvious
and a tendency to think far ahead of most people, recognized that the
secrets and subtleties of modern jazz piano would only be revealed through
the working jazz community.

Sacha quickly found his way to the inner circles of the NY jazz world,
aided in part by friends such as trumpeter Dwayne Clemons and pianist
Rodney Kendrick, who introduced him to the enclaves of insiders who gathered
nightly away from the limited clubs to play the subtle and urgent music
that they and their associates originated in New York. Here Sacha met
up with players such as Barry Harris, Clarence “C” Sharpe,
Junior Cook, Lou Donaldson, Tommy Turrentine, Leroy Williams -- and Frank
Hewitt, the original subject of this label, who was to become Sacha’s
greatest influence on the piano. Also, fatefully, Sacha met up with future
musical collaborators Ari Roland, Chris Byars, Zaid Nasser, and Mike Mullins,
some of the young players on the scene who were singled out by their elders,
and often invited to accompany.

And here the stories converge.

The arrival of new clubs brought to increasingly eclectic listeners a
choice, and to artists an abundance of paid stage-time. Musicians who
were previously forced to perform in obscurity received the opportunity
to perform publicly and on a regular basis. Smalls, open until dawn every
night of the week, could provide time enough to stretch out. Here Sacha
and his collaborators, and their elder, Frank Hewitt, all found themselves
together working, developing, and thriving artistically, if not financially.

In the course of nine years at Smalls, Sacha played every Sunday in Across
7 Street, a product of his habitual collaborations with its co-leaders,
Ari Roland and Chris Byars. Sometimes Sacha would work on a Thursday with
Zaid Nasser, lead his own trio early Friday and Saturday, and appear with
Across 7 Street on Sunday. This proved the ideal environment for Sacha
to pen and perform a steady stream of beautiful and challenging new compositions.
The compositions found an outlet in the context of these groups, and the
players had the opportunity to explore the subtle artistic possibilities
in them over time. Appearing here are eleven of the forty or so compositions
Sacha wrote during this period.

Obviously these are not pedestrian compositions. One is immediately struck
by the expressive and sophisticated harmonies, and the lyrical melodies
that are both extraterrestrial and down to Earth. Expectations of harmonic
excellence run deep in New York, which has played host to virtually the
entire history of achievements in jazz harmony. Meeting such expectations
under pressure is among the most daunting challenges for a young player.
Sacha is usually singled out for having a special gift in this regard.
The original harmonic progressions used in compositions here are evidence
of the range of harmonic possibilities that he commands. He knows precisely
the expressive weight of his chords. Using rapidly shifting and subtle
chromatic moods, he is able to weave themes that are at once poetic and
smart, often with a dark edge, and a wry sense of humor. The influence
of bebop is evident in Sacha’s playing, and it is clear that he
came by it as a musical progeny of the music’s early practitioners,
and his playing has the ring of authenticity. He is neither retro nor
revival. This is a welcome change from the shallow, scholastic forms that
one hears all too commonly.

Bassist Ari Roland has been working with Sacha for fifteen years now
and he knows Sacha’s book inside and out. Their musical conversations
on each tune here are a highly developed and spirited contrapuntal pas
de deux worthy of concentrated listening. Ari’s bass solos on this
date, some of his best on record, are dizzying, introducing many elements
into play all at once, and resolving them all through the most unusual
keys. It is an artful combination that seems to give play to all the daemons
of the psyche, from the antic to the manic, and it complements Sacha’s
aesthetic.

Phil Stewart, who has been playing many of these tunes with Sacha for
the last three years, has a position of honor here, occupying a chair
previously occupied much of the time by the late Jimmy Lovelace, who passed
this last October 29th, 2004. Phil’s natural exuberance comes through
in his lively accompaniment, which feeds nicely into the piano and bass
counterpoint to create a very tight group sound. Whether playing time,
accenting, trading with Sacha, or soloing, Phil enhances the dramatic
scope of Sacha’s music.

The enigmatic title of this album is a triple entendre given to me by
Sacha on the back of a Smalls flyer. Eretik is heretic, is erratic, is
erotic. Shades of Gertrude Stein. It is partly a reflection of the deceptively
many layers here.